Featured Article
'Fishing
Tales from The Gambia'
by Daddy
Chabi (Trevor Key)

Jack The Ripper

In the dark and misty streets of the
late 19th century London the mere
mention of that name was guaranteed
to set your heart pumping and your
adrenaline racing. Here in the
21st century Gambia with blue water
and clear skies we experience
similar heart thumping moments, but
the name that triggers our
adrenaline is that of: Jack Crevalle
- one of the toughest fighters that
never gives up.

During my misspent-youth, and in
common with most red blooded young
men, 'bird watching' was one of my
favourite pastimes. Thankfully
over the years the habit never left
me. But sadly, nowadays it is
no longer mini-skirts that grab my
attention but rather the seabirds
and diving terns. Seabirds are
often referred to as the fisherman's
'eye in the sky', and rightly so,
for since man first hunted fish ,
seabirds have been some of the most
important natural indicators of
where fish and action should be.
Though I rarely set out to
specifically target Jacks, like the
good boy scout I used to be, it pays
to 'be prepared'. So I
normally have an old casting rod
plus a weighty surface 'popper',
'Dexter' wedge or a large silver
spoon somewhere close at hand.

One of the enduring joys of angling
is that very often the unexpected
does happen, like when a calm and
normal sort of day suddenly turns
into a cracking exciting day that
you will remember for a long time.
Recently I experienced that kind of
day, the weather and sea conditions
were idyllic although the fishing
was slow. One of those days
when you either lie back and light a
'Hamlet' or head home in a huff to
sell your rods and buy a set of golf
clubs!!. Seabirds had been
passing by all morning in ones and
twos, heading off into the wild blue
yonder. When suddenly I
noticed a small group of eight or
ten had gathered and appeared to be
circling over one spot about 600
yards away, and as I focused on
them, the sea beneath suddenly
erupted in a mass of foam and the
birds began diving in. It was
of course a school of Jacks forcing
bait fish up to the surface and then
ripping through them like the 'razor
gang'. I didn't exactly press
the panic button, but rods were in,
the anchor was up and my casting rod
was to hand all in about 30 seconds.
The engine was fired up and I began
a slow steady approach from up-tide.
When Jacks are in this feeding
frenzy mode they tend to smash
through the bait fish for a minute
or so, then they dive to re-marshal
the bait fish bringing them back to
the surface two or three minutes
later. This is when the
seabirds are invaluable, for they
wheel and circle over the bait fish
giving you a pretty good indication
of where the Jacks will reappear.

The secret of success in this game
is to position yourself within
casting distance of the anticipated
spot, cut your engine and drift
down-tide onto the fish.
Charging around with your engine
screaming is frustrating and counter
productive, for this only serves to
drive the Jacks down, and off they
head for more peaceful feeding
grounds. On this occasion I
was lucky enough to boat three nice
14-16lb Jacks, but I also lost at
least five more, two of them right
alongside the boat - one even
managed to straighten the 'eagle
claw' hook on my Dexter wedge ! As I
mentioned before these are the most
incredibly tough fighters that will
battle every inch of the way right
up to the boat.

However, on the plus side, chilled,
sliced thinly and drizzled with lime
juice they make an excellent 'sushi'
or alternatively, season the steaks,
brush with olive oil and char-grill
them.

Bon Appetite.

Daddy Chabi

Article
'Jack
the Ripper'

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